


Billdip Smut Week June 2016

by Bloomquist



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: (Withdrawn Consent), Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, BDSM, BillDip, Billdip Smut Week, Chastity Device, Dubious Consent, Light Bondage, M/M, Mild Emetophilia, Safeword Use, Vibrators, shower shenanigans, smothering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-12 18:58:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7118443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloomquist/pseuds/Bloomquist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day One: BDSM<br/>Day Two: Unconventional Sex Toys<br/>Day Three: AU of your choice<br/>This is complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Caged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little idea of Bill's gives Dipper the ride of his life.

When Dipper wakes up, it's close to sunrise. He's awoken by an excruciating pain as his cock tries to break free of its confines: The small, awkwardly shaped cage Bill had suggested he wear the previous night.

His first reaction is to reach down and fumble with it, to try to pull it off desperately, but it doesn't work. Tears form when he realizes there's a lock, a lock to which there is a key, a key which Bill Cipher no doubt possessed.

The same Bill Cipher who lays across from him on the bed, awoken by his small fit; Grinning like a madman and watching him struggle. He gives the demon a pitiful look, but the sadistic smile doesn't waver.

"Morning, Pine Tree. You look great." he patronizes, but all the same Dipper can't resist a small shudder at the complement. Bill takes note, sliding across the bed to meet Dipper, intertwining his legs around one of the teen's and pushing his own caged cock up against his thigh.

Oh, gods. This is hot. How is this hot?

"Bill, I can't. Take it off. Please take it off." he begs quietly. Instead of listening, Bill continues to rock against Dipper, his thigh now flush against his own cage, and all he can think of is that it hurts, it hurts so much, it hurts so blissfully. He can't get hard, and it's taking his toll on him. He wants to scramble for relief and take a cold shower all at once, but clearly Bill has other plans.

With one of his hands, the demon pushes Dipper's other thigh so he lays spread eagle, showing off the cage and the area around it to the open air. He takes a hand to caress it for a moment, snags a rung with his finger that makes Dipper whine again, and then sits up on the bed as if he suddenly just remembered something important.

He comes back up over the edge with a couple handfuls of things Dipper has seen on and off in the bedroom, particularly in instances when they were staying at Bill’s apartment for the night. The memories only make his problem worse, and a low breath escapes from his mouth.

Bill notices this, too. He leans back in, discarding a few of the things in favor of a blindfold. “Oh, kid. You're gonna love this,” he informs in a whisper that makes Dipper feel like, oh yes, he really was going to.

The blindfold slips over his eyes and Bill scrapes his nails through his hair to make sure it’s sitting comfortably. The demon’s cage is warm and pressed up against Dipper’s stomach, hard metal in place of soft flesh that makes him lightheaded to think about.

When he’s finished, Bill sits back to admire his work. Caresses litter Dipper’s face and he can tell even without being able to see that his lover is wearing a bigger shit eating grin than usual.

Maybe he wouldn't enjoy this.

As soon as that thought passes through his head, Bill’s hips slide down to his and metal bumps against metal, sharp and painful and toe curling. Dipper whines another desperate complaint and Bill only laughs, then moves on to the next item in question.

Dipper waits with baited breath until he feels the slide of soft rope around his leg and realizes what’s happening. He tries not to tense, fails and hears a noise of approval from Bill on top of him that only makes it worse. It twists around his thigh, then his calf, and finally his wrist, until Bill halts again.

He can picture it because he’s seen it a million times: Bill half-asses the ties and ends up leaving them asymmetrical, simultaneously driving Dipper crazy and making him fall more in love. His suspicion is confirmed when Bill abandons the rope in favor of the last item, which Dipper realizes he never got a look at.

The demon’s other hand massages the inside of his thighs and moves up slowly, taking its time on its way to Dipper’s straining cock and the cage. He palms it, slides fingers across the sensitive flesh trying to escape through the bars, and Dipper feels like screaming and floating at the same time. His free hand fists the sheets nearby until he’s white knuckled, and his head presses back into the pillows hard enough to distract from the pain.

Bill seems to take this as some kind of cue, because soon he’s bringing something hard down between them, presses up against it himself, and turns it on.

A groan tears from Dipper’s throat as the vibration starts, radiating all the way through the metal. He can feel it over his entire cock and then some, radiating straight to bone. His whole groin feels overstimulated and all he can do is struggle and whimper, gasping for breath until Bill pulls it away.

“Safeword?” he asks. Dipper can hear the amusement, and for a moment he honestly considers it, but replies, “No.” in a ragged gasp.

When Bill returns the vibrator between them, the touch is softer, tingling its way through like a bout of paresthesia. He keens easier, now - It’s like a soft caress, trying to counteract the pain to turn it all into pleasure. It’s good, making everything pleasant, but it’s not quite enough.

His face must have communicated as much, because Dipper is caught by surprise again when he feels something cold press up between his spread thighs. His head jerks up as if he could look, but he can’t, and when his free hand flies up to remove the blindfold and chastise Bill, the hand holding the vibrator drops it and grabs his wrist instead, dashing away the pleasant sensation.

He decides to be good after that: He drops his head back to the bed and returns his hand to the sheets, clenching them to stop himself from trying anything else.

A moment later, a satisfied Bill pushes the vibrator softly against him again. He switches it on, and Dipper relaxes, choosing to push against the intrusion instead of resisting. He regrets it when it continues to taper, making him whimper at the stretch. He tries to power through the sensation, and he’s soon rewarded with a spike of pleasure as he closes around the plug and it settles inside of him.

Bill’s hand begins to tug and push lightly. Dipper can’t contain his excitement anymore as he writhes and pushes back against it, bucks his hips into the vibrator. Everything is pleasure now and building fast. He stops moving from the intensity of it all, stops being able to think and function and even squirm as he approaches orgasm hard and fast.

He seizes as he releases, grabbing the bed with both hands and curling up. His entire body goes numb, centered on the pleasure, cum spurting from the hole at the tip of the cage, and when he’s finished and thinks he can’t stand another moment of the overstimulation, Bill flicks off the vibrator.

He’s vaguely aware of Bill grinding against his thigh and using the vibrator on himself as he floats in his afterglow, and soon after the demon moans “Piiine Tree,” as he squeezes the leg almost painfully. Dipper feels hot liquid drip down his thigh to the bed.

Bill leans up and kisses Dipper on the cheek sweetly, uses one hand to tug off the blindfold, and the first coherent thought that comes to the teen’s mind is “I love you.”

The demon smiles earnestly, mirthfully, and doesn’t answer.


	2. Breathless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper gets more than he bargained for.

It’s rare that Bill and Dipper get time to themselves, nowadays. Between work and college, Dipper can barely catch a break, and when he does, half the time Bill is busy doing...well...whatever Bill does.

The movie is some b-list horror film that Dipper picked mostly for the background noise, and neither of them are as interested in it as they are in each other, staring and smiling, chatting lightly. Dipper is the one who makes the first move, nuzzling his nose gently into his lover’s cheek, and Bill takes control from there, planting his lips in a trail from Dipper’s ear, along his cheekbone, to his lips, planting chaste kisses on them.

The light kisses soon escalate when Bill’s hand wanders...no, straight up gropes Dipper through his jeans, giving him a firm and very unsubtle rub. Despite the fact that it’s embarrassingly forward and far from classy, the teen can’t help but gasp at the feeling. After all, by now he'd learned that in a relationship with Bill Cipher, he was often unpredictable in (mostly) the best ways.

Once his intentions are clear, Dipper silently agrees through kisses, pushing hot and heavy against Bill’s lips, even risking to snag his lip with his teeth - To which the demon growls, and Dipper stops dead. Fear spikes in him as Bill leans in, biting down on the column of his neck hard enough for him to cry out. He arches his back and stutters his hips into the palm over his jeans, trying to coerce relief from the blond above him.

A rush swells his cock when it comes: Bill removes his teeth and reaches to undo his pants, quickly stripping Dipper of his jeans and underwear to leave him exposed. His hands flew down to cover and protect himself on a foreign instinct, but the demon doesn’t so much as pause in drawing them back and away.

He pins them softly to the couch as if reassuring his apprehension. He leans down slower, kissing softer and drawing out a few content noises from the brunet.

When he's sure Dipper has calmed, Bill continues. He fondles Dipper’s rock hard length with practiced efficiency and Dipper quickly melts again. He reaches for Bill and tucks his fingers into the waistband of his pants to free him from his confines. The demon quickly helps, kicking off his own pants, pulling off his own shirt. When Dipper moves to do the same, Bill helps with a vigor that has his head spinning for a moment.

He goes to ask, but the smile on Bill’s face is priceless as he takes in the sight of his Pine Tree, prone on the couch below him and staring up with arousal and apprehension. Dipper breaks the silence by exhaling a breath he didn't know he was holding and Bill returns to what he's doing.

Smooth hands glide up Dipper’s sides and ribs and he whines encouragingly to the touch. One of them disappears, and Dipper doesn't worry until he suddenly feels the tip of Bill’s slick erection press up between his legs.

“Bill!” he gasps, but it doesn't stop him. His elbows lock their way above Dipper’s shoulders and his hips push onward. The brunet sobs once as he feels the stretching burn. Bill is torturous and slow, taking his time sliding in one centimeter at a time until he's fully inside Dipper and then some as he grinds in hard.

Dipper is tense, but he tries his best to relax, and Bill is helping. The teen focuses in on gentle words of encouragement: “My sweet, lovely little sapling,” Bill breathes into his ear, “Doing so well, so tight. Oh, Pine Tree.” Dipper’s cock twitches hard enough at that to tap against Bill’s stomach above him, and that's all the encouragement he needs.

Bill pulls out of Dipper, and mixed emotions fill the brunet at the relief and emptiness. It doesn’t last long - The demon lifts his legs with both hands and slams back inside of him, inducing a cry of pain and pleasure, and even Dipper doesn’t know which. Bill fucks him hard and steady, making his erection grind against his abs. Precum smears the trajectory and soon Dipper is gasping at the caress on his inside and out, consumed by the pleasure.

Suddenly, a pillow comes down on Dipper’s face, blocking out his vision and his airways. He tries to draw in hard breaths through the fabric, but any air he gets is quickly fucked back out of him. In a few moments he panics, scrabbling for the pillow, and when he can’t remove it, he goes for Bill’s arm, screaming and clawing at it. He hears Bill laugh, and the prospect makes him lightheaded with fear.

He hyperventilates and cries, but the pillow wicks them all away like they don’t matter. He can feel the steady pound of Bill’s cock in him sharper than ever, and he can’t help but focus on the feeling to try and distract from the fact that he wanted, needed air so badly, he was suffocating, he was going to die…

Then suddenly, he feels his body give in, and his mind soon follows, slipping into darkness.

He awakes with a start, taking a deep, gasping breath. He’s on his stomach, he’s still on the couch, and he’s still being penetrated.

It feels inexplicably amazing, but memories flood back to him with every thrust. He begins to claw at the couch, trying to get away from Bill, but firm hands have him by the hips, and he’s weak from the ache and the need for oxygen. “Stop. Bill, stop it! You’re scaring me! Please!” he pleads with a hoarse voice, but instead of stopping Bill puts a hand on the back of his head, presses his face down into the couch, thrusts faster, and snarls down at him. He scrambles to get his face away from the fabric, terror gripping his heart, until, with the last burst of his strength, he jerks his head up and took a deep breath.

“Oculi!” he manages before Bill crushes his head back into the couch, and suddenly everything stops.

Dipper shakes with fear and takes deep life-giving breaths. Bill withdraws from on top of him, and it feels like more than the weight of his body is lifted. The teen sobs brokenly into the couch. Even harder when Bill rubs his back with a comforting circle.

“Pine Tree.” comes the sweet voice from behind him, all sugar, ridiculously pleasant. He hates it. He hates the way the demon can manipulate him so easily, but he can’t stop it.

The blond nudges Dipper and helps him turn over onto his back again, lifts him up and cradles him softly. He starts to sob more earnestly now, into the crook of Bill’s neck, clinging to him as if he wasn’t the one that nearly tried to kill him just now. As his sobs begin to calm, an understanding hand drifts to Dipper’s waist, flourishing across the skin of his hip, begging permission.

It’s another moment before Dipper can swallow, whispering “Okay.”

Bill leans backward and pulls the brunet on top of him, giving him an understanding look. Now, Dipper sets the pace as he slides his persistent erection against Bill’s. He rolls his hips gently at first, testing the water, and Bill gasps in ways that reassure Dipper he’s the one in control. The moves gradually become desperate - gasps turn into moans, strokes turn grinding, and Bill is clearly doing all he can to stop from bucking up, taking over, and finishing.

Dipper lets out a whimper when he comes, shooting onto Bill; Shortly after that Bill curls, releasing into the same puddle of seed on his stomach.

It’s not great for Bill, he knows that, but it’s satisfying enough, and Dipper is content and exhausted. He allows the demon to pull him down to rest on top of him, closes his eyes to fingers carding through his curly hair, and quickly falls asleep.


	3. Rockstar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill is the lead singer of a band, and Dipper, the bassist, can't hope to get close to him.

The lead singer has been an enigma since the day he laid eyes on him. Dipper is convinced he’s some kind of god, maybe a demon, and when he glances at him from across the stage to watch him sing, glistening with effort and grinning from nearly literal ear to ear, it nearly makes him skip a note. He doesn’t think he can get close - After all, he’s just the bass player.

It happens one day after practice. Dipper is putting away his bass. As he stands up to leave, Bill is right there in front of him, nearly face to face. He screams a high pitched, girly thing, and the singer laughs. Even that’s musical.

“S-Sorry. Great...job today. You did great. Good singer. I mean, you’re an amazing singer. Haha. Wooow.” he says before he gathers the wisdom to shut his mouth. That grin spreads across Bill’s face, and he has to fight the urge to either kiss him or run.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long for the blond to break the awkward silence. “Your sister left her guitar behind! No need to get scared. I don’t bite. Or I do, but only in a consensual situation!”

For some reason, everything blanks out after Dipper hears the word consensual, and oh god, what did he say again?

“Sorry, what?” he squeaks. He feels like an idiot, but Bill’s mood clearly doesn’t change. 

“I said Star left her guitar. Did you want me to bite you?”

“Oh...yeah.” At this point, Dipper just wants the conversation to end. “Yeah, I’ll...”

“Pine Tree? Are you feeling alright?”

“What did you call me?”

“Pine Tree.”

“My...I’m Dipper.”

“I know you are. We’re in the same band, kid. Do you need to go to a hospital? You look a little green around the gills.”

At this, Dipper stopped talking.

“Pine Tree?” came a softer voice.

“What?” he replied, resigned to be renamed and unacknowledged for the rest of their band’s career.

“Can I kiss you?”

This time, Dipper definitely hears him. “Yeah, um, you know, maybe dinner first?” he says with sarcasm, assuming the question was a joke.

Instead of saying something clever, Bill looks excited. “Sure. What do you like? Pancakes? Burgers? Pizza?”

The brunet has never felt so lightheaded in his life.

☆ ☆ ☆

Before he knew it, dinner had turned into drinks at a nearby bar, Dipper’s things had been deposited at Bill’s place around the corner with the assumption they would be going back there together, and the brunet suspected but didn’t care where the night would end up going. Bill was buying his drinks, getting a variety of fruity cocktails for him since the moment he had said, “I don’t know.” when the bartender had asked him.

The bar around him looks quite a bit more excited than it was before, and Dipper wonders how long they’ve been there and if it’s just him. He looks at Bill beside him and notices the singer seems to be staring at him. “Whhhat?” he asks, then turns red from the mortification. Was that a slur? He couldn’t remember the last time he had been slur drunk.

“Nothing. Everything. Just...Dipper,” he says warmly, “Do you want to go back to my place?”

A confidence swells in the brunet’s chest. He knows it’s from the combination of the alcohol and hearing his own name. He doesn’t care. “Yeah.”

He practically rips his pants off right there at the smile the other gives him then; nothing like the one on stage he’s seen until now but inevitably and irrevocably Bill in every sense.

The walk to Bill’s apartment isn’t actually far, but with Bill supporting him and his numb legs, the both of them don’t make much progress. The world is spinning around Dipper, and he can barely tell which direction he’s facing. More than once, he nearly falls out onto the busy street, but strong arms catch him.

On the third time, however, Bill catches him around the diaphragm rather harshly, pulling him close. His stomach roils at the contact, his mouth waters, and when he opens his mouth to warn Bill, it comes up all too fast.

The vomit is nearly all alcohol, spilling its way down Bill’s clothes. The singer doesn’t let go of him after the first heave, and the second time, the remnants of dinner coat Bill’s pants, and the smell hits him as hard as the realization of what he’s just done.

“Oh, god,” Dipper sobs, “God, sorry, god.” Despite his protests, Bill is still smiling. A hand runs through Dipper’s hair, and he vaguely realizes there’s bile on it, but the revulsion is overwhelmed by relief. He had expected everything but being forgiven.

“Shh. Let’s get you home.” Bill replies. There’s a fire in his voice that wasn’t there before.

Dipper only nods numbly, unable to respond much more.

They begin to walk again, slower and more methodical this time. People are avoiding them in an arc, but the smell faded for him about a block behind.

By the time they get back up to the apartment, he’s coherent enough not to fall down the wall when Bill lets him go to fish out his keys. The door swings open to the oddly endearing scent of vanilla, and Dipper is glad that at least his shame probably wouldn’t stick around too badly. Bill reaches over to him and pulls him through the doorway, making him fall against the blond’s chest and into his own sick as they enter the apartment.

He wants to protest but Bill kisses him, hot and heavy, licking his lips and filthy chin. The hairs on the back of Dipper’s neck stand up on end in alarm, but it’s too hard for him to speak, kiss, and walk; He settles with the last two, and soon he feels a sweeping relief when they push through a door and into the bathroom.

When they get inside, Bill begins to undress Dipper, discarding his clothes on the floor. The brunet fumbles to return the favor, but his drunk fingers slip on the buttons. 

Realizing this, Bill takes him gently, kisses him, and lets him sit on the toilet seat as he turns on the shower and strips himself. The brunet vaguely analyzes in his drunk haze how casual and sexy he seems to be able to make everything, even the action of letting his vomit-soaked clothes drop to the floor. The blond seems to read his mind.

Within seconds, Dipper is being coaxed to his feet, but the moment they enter the shower, Bill had him up against the wall. He realizes it's because the shower is only three feet wide, but another kiss, rougher this time and more intent, silences him.

Bill smells and tastes like a mixture of the cheap beer he's been drinking, warm tap water, and a hint of sour. He closes his eyes as the water soaks his bangs, making it impossible to see. He doesn't mind it that way, and instead feels his way up, Bill’s chest and back down, gripping fast to his incredible erection.

Dipper gasps into the kiss and leans his head onto Bill’s shoulder to help himself see for himself. Bill is big, way bigger than he expected, and suddenly words don't work so well as he compares it to his own rock hard length. He feels inferior, like...like that one thing he'd learned about in biology. What was it?

“Like what you see?” Bill purrs into his ear, and Dipper leaks a gratuitous amount of precum at the voice. The other pushes his hips forward, making his tip hit his hip bone and slip up it, while Dipper’s cock barely made contact. 

Like an omega. He realizes with weak knees, and he's only able to whimper in response. He can imagine nothing else but taking that length inside of him; Bill is focused on aligning their lengths, frotting against his cock with intensive rolls of his hips. Every brush feels slick with the water cascading over them, and it doesn't take long for Dipper to get close, so close his knees try to give out.

Instead, he feels Bill draw back, and he does fall, collapsing hard to his knees in the small shower. He doesn't notice the water has diverted until there's the familiar scent of pine in his nose, being massaged through his hair and into his scalp ever so gently by firm fingers. Same shampoo, he thinks. Bill had noticed.

He tilts his head up at the soothing feeling and smell, inhales it calmly. One of the hands disappears and the head of Bill’s cock smears precum onto his lips. Dipper licks it away and opens his mouth obediently so Bill can push onward into the tight heat, which he does without hesitation.

He lazily sucks the head and first few inches of Bill, bobbing and swirling his lips and tongue and earning a low moan and more gentle rubs as Bill finishes shampooing him. His eyes slip closed again when the water begins to cascade down his forehead again, closer this time, rinsing the suds from his locks and pushing them back away from.his face in the same motion. (Considering it, Bill did seem like the kind of person who would invest in something like a removable showerhead.)

When he was finished, Bill dropped the shower head down to cascade in between them. The heavy water hit Dipper’s straining erection just right, making him squirm and jut his hips forward a little.

Soon, the gentle pressure of the water wasn't enough, and he had a hand on his front and one reaching behind him, eager to stretch himself. In the same breath, Bill tucked Dipper’s head against the tile and began to move his hips with slow intent.

It was nice and lazy at first, and Dipper found it arousing each time Bill tapped against the back of his throat. His breathing became more ragged as he realized how much he wanted to cum, how little stimulation he was getting thanks to the friction of the water, and how much he wanted and needed.

Filled with new determination, Dipper begins to finger himself, wincing only until he gets two fingers into his tight hole. He begins to try to stretch himself, and there's a proportional amount of arousal in Bill in the way he very nearly bucks into Dipper’s throat.

Then he really does, shoving his length hard down into Dipper’s throat as he's trying to take a breath, and he gasps and coughs in response. It happens again, and he full on gags, trying to tap out. His hand reaches Bill’s thigh when he does it a third time, and this time, Dipper is in tears as he realizes he can practically feel Bill’s cock hit straight at his stomach and he can't keep it in anymore.

He vomits the acid leftover in his stomach all over Bill and himself, and his embarrassment burns hotter than ever as forces his face away to dry heave spit and mucus onto the floor of the shower. He quickly tries to rinse it with his hands. This was it. This was how Dipper Pines ended. A puking, drunk mess who had thoroughly embarrassed himself in front of his crush.

A calm passes over him and he just...stops. He's surprisingly content - Relaxed and relieved of anything else that might make his stomach protest tonight.

The showerhead moves briefly and then drops again, before the sound of running water stops altogether. The door of the shower opens with a telltale noise, and Dipper, calmer than he’s felt in years, allows Bill to guide him to his feet, out of the shower, and into the main room again with a towel around his shoulders.

He sits on the black couch and sinks into it contently. His body is barely fighting sleep. He opens his eyes to see Bill admiring him so yet again, and he suddenly feels embarrassed again.

He makes a hoarse questioned noise, and Bill approaches him looking all too heated for someone who just got puked on twice. He opens his mouth to let the blond know he’s sorry and that he should give up on ever doing anything with him ever because he just wouldn’t be able to face him again, but in the same breath, Bill’s tongue slips into his mouth, tugging him into a sultry kiss.

Bill lifts one of Dipper’s legs and sidles up against him, bringing shockingly cold fingers against his opening and sparking a renascent arousal. He exhales softly as Bill slips two fingers into his hyper-relaxed body, and soon arousal pooled in him again as he pushed back against them, moaning into the blond’s mouth despite his sore and aching throat. Bill began to fuck his fingers into him in earnest, and Dipper slipped in and out of consciousness at the beautiful feeling.

Soon but not soon enough, Bill withdrew his fingers from inside of him and replaced the pressure with his length. Despite his already lubed entrance, he could tell the man had been dripping hot precum the entire time from the slick way his cock slid against his hole before repositioning and slipping inside of him.

It felt even bigger inside of him. His hands eagerly clawed at Bill’s back and his ankles hooked behind Bill’s knees, dragging him in despite the tightness and the pain. He needed, and he needed badly, and he wanted it all: He wanted to feel friction, to feel wrecked inside, to be fucked senseless until he couldn’t walk for a week.

Instead, thanks to Bill’s infuriating self-control and much to Dipper’s chagrin, he went torturously slow, making sure he wasn’t chokingly tight as he moved in. He stopped and tutted his tongue against Dipper’s mouth, drawing back from their tantalizing mix of lips and tongue to speak.

“You’re too tight, Pine Tree. We’ll have to fix that next time.”

Dipper is still registering the statement in his slowed brain when he feels Bill vacate him, and he whines, tightening his legs, arching up, and dragging him back inside with a hard thrust. Bill’s cock stretches everything, presses on every sensitive spot, lights up every nerve inside of him as he complies and begins to thrust into him, letting out growls of pleasure. The brunet thinks he could melt right here in the singer’s arms, die happy so long as he could cum impaled on his crush's thick cock, and Bill is quickly getting desperate as well, pressing in a little harder, fucking Dipper more thoroughly, angling in a way that makes Dipper feel white hot.

Gasps and moans babble from Dipper’s mouth when he begins to see cross-eyed with every thrust, and his eyes beg to be closed, but he wants to see Bill - From the looks of it, the way Bill stares at him, sweaty and mesmerized and fucking into him with such amazing vigor, he's the blond’s everything at the moment.

He holds the eye contact as best as he can until he feels his pleasure crest, and he comes the hardest he’s ever come, gritting his teeth to muffle a moan more primal than he’s ever made.

Bill doesn’t stop pounding into his oversensitive body, and tears begin to well up from the intense pleasure as he continues to be assaulted. Finally, in a move that literally has Bill lifting Dipper against him in a crushing hug, biting onto his shoulder, and shoving him onto his cock, Bill comes deep inside of him: Hot and amazing and so much, crashing against his insides and filling him to the brim.

When the wave passes, Bill settles Dipper back onto the couch again, panting heavily. He pulls out of him slowly, and Dipper can feel his sore, stretched insides contract. He blinks slowly up at the singer who’s taking a mental image of his spent body and smiles his best but tired smile.

Bill smiles back and cards a hand through his hair softly, drawing a sigh from the brunet, then gets up from the couch. Dipper hears the distant sound of speaking, involving words like ‘clean’ and ‘wipe’ and other things he just can’t bring himself to care about, before he drifts off to sleep, passing out within seconds.


End file.
